


The Aftermath

by die_eike



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Comfortember 2020, Coping with Death, Fantasy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Plans For The Future, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Reconstruction, Recovery, change in government, going back to school/work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_eike/pseuds/die_eike
Summary: In the aftermath of the battle of Hogwarts, Harry finds that there are still some things he has to do and some truths he has to face. Happy Comfortember!
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	The Aftermath

Harry awoke to hushed voices.

“… still sleeping.”

“…brought some food…”

His arms and legs felt heavy like lead and he had obviously been sleeping in his clothes, with his shoes still on. He had been riding a dragon in his dream… No, no dream. With a jolt he sat upright on his four-poster bed, searching for his glasses, when it all came back to him. He actually _had_ been riding a dragon to escape Gringotts. The battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort – defeated. Dead. Forever gone. As were Tonks, and Lupin, and Fred. Pain rose inside him, quarreling with the excitement and tremendous relief he felt at the thought that it was all over. This was something new, the beginning of a fresh chapter, where there were no horcruxes, no paining scar, no prophecies. With a sigh he sank back into his cushions, finally putting his glasses on, which somebody must have laid on his bedside table for him, as he could not remember to have done so.

All he remembered was getting out of the Headmaster’s office together with Ron and Hermione after telling them the truth about what he had seen in the Pensieve, and what had happened in the Forbidden Forest, and about his decision to abandon the Deathly Hollows. Not having slept for nearly two days, he had started to feel sluggish and thoughts about a place where he could stretch out for just a few moments had become overwhelming. They had left the office, and he had staggered past the crumbled gargoyles at the entry, past the corridors full of rubble, demolished statues and broken furniture, but then found that Gryffindor Tower had seemingly suffered less from the battle than the lower levels of Hogwarts Castle. He remembered Ron and Hermione sinking into the sofa in front of the fireside after entering the common room, while he had made his way to the dormitory. There, he had given in to his exhaustion, not caring about his bloodstained clothes or that his face was still smeared with dust and smoke.

He wondered how long he had been sleeping. Judging by the light on the windowsill, it was late morning, maybe even noon. Had it really been less than two days that they had left Shell Cottage to find and destroy the fourth horcrux? It felt incredibly long ago. With a yawn he decided to fight the rest of his sleepiness and to watch out for something to eat.

The common room was deserted, but before he could think about summoning Kreacher to bring him a sandwich or two, his eyes fell on a plate with bread, cheese and cold beef. He ate ravenously, and afterwards, Harry felt well enough to set out in search for the others.

There was movement everywhere in the castle, which seemed to have transformed into one big construction site. As Harry passed the corridor, he saw house-elves and humans alike working on the most seriously demolished parts of the buildings, Vanishing rubble or clearing it away with Hover charms. The air was filled with the muffled sounds of Reparo-spells. He saw a middle-aged witch attending skillfully to a big hole in the ceiling, wearing a grim but satisfied expression on her face.

Through a shattered window, Harry could make out the immense figure of Grawp striding through the lawns, carrying away a massive boulder as if it was a toy. Harry nearly collided with a stone statue that was missing large parts of its head and repeatedly kept bumping against the wall. Very few torches were intact, and fewer were lit, but somebody had sent bewitched orbs drifting through the corridors, which illuminated the darker sections of the castle with a silvery glow.

The Great Hall was buzzing with conversation. The House tables were in place where McGonagall had put them back the day before, but rarely any student could be seen. Sitting around the tables were mixed groups of people: witches and wizards in Ministry uniforms were discussing eagerly, bending over large rolls of parchment and steaming mugs of hot beverages. Here and there, Harry got a glimpse of a teacher among them.

Hogwarts' house-elves didn’t seem to care as much about being invisible as they had. They were hurrying around, serving food on large plates directly to the tables instead of letting it appear on them. Harry wondered if, by the look of satisfaction on their faces, this was out of some weird concept of enjoyment, or if the enchantment on the house tables was broken like the one on the ceiling. Harry looked up. He had never imagined being able to see the actual stone structure.

Harry casted a look around and his glance fell on a mop of bushy hair. Hermione sat hunched over some reading material, holding a spoon in front of her nose: a familiar picture, at last. Harry smiled.

“Harry!” Hermione beamed and shot up from her seat. “Finally! I was starting to worry…”

“Where is everybody?” Harry asked after a short embrace.

“With the end of term cancelled, they organized the Hogwarts Express for those who had stayed in Hogsmeade after evacuation or didn’t leave the castle with their parents after the battle. Most have left after the festivities yesterday night.” Hermione blushed. “Ron and I… we tried to wake you, and Ginny came looking for you, too. But you just slept on…”

“Hermione,” Harry interrupted her and gave her smile he hoped was reassuring. “No harm done. Really.”

If there was anything he needed less, then it was another party. It had not been too bad until now, but he was quite aware of the glances, smiles and nods he earned whenever people glimpsed him. He longed for some kind of normalcy.

“Ron…” Hermione’s features started to sink and a crease appeared between her eyebrows. “He is at The Burrow now. They brought Fred’s body back home, you know. Mrs. Weasley told me to tell you that she expects us there as soon as possible. The funeral will be in three days…” Her voice became shaky and tears welled up in her eyes. “It’s all so awful, Harry! I mean Fred… and Tonks, and Lupin. But – but we did it, it’s over, He’s gone. Can you believe it?”

She flung her arms around Harry, who patted her hair, and could perfectly well understand her confusion. How could it be right to feel relieved, even cheerful, when all around them families were mourning over their beloved ones, some of them having been mere kids like Colin Creevey; and then there was little Ted Tonks who would never even get to know his parents. He remembered Ginny, huddled together with Mrs. Weasley and felt the need to comfort her rising inside him, struggling with the fear that it would not, could never be enough.

Hermione lifted her embrace on Harry, sniffling. “I’m sorry.”

She blew her nose, smiled and straightened. They sat down at the table and Harry accepted a drink from an enthusiastic house-elve.

“I spoke with Professor McGonagall. And I was lucky that she could spare me some time, she is all overworked, with the reconstructions going on, and parents and the Ministry sending owls every few minutes. Have you seen the reinforcements the Minister has sent …”

“The Minister?” Harry interrupted.

“Kingsley, of course. He was announced temporary Minister of Magic and there will be rightful elections at the end of this month, but chances are high that he will keep the post, if you ask me. However, McGonagall has to organize school business all by herself, not an easy task after a year under the regime of Death Eaters. She would like to erase that school year from the records. Half of the students had not been allowed to attend, or had been on the run. Exams are cancelled except for OWLs and NEWTs and even then you will have to repeat the year if you have taken Muggle Studies or Defense – think about the rubbish students have been taught…”

Harry wasn’t listening. He was watching the opposite side of the hall, where the centaur Firenze still lay recovering. Some witch or wizard had transformed the floor in his corner into a bed of dry leaves. Firenze seemed too weak to be moving already, but he got visitors. While Hermione had been babbling about school, two centaurs armed with crossbows had entered the hall and kept straight toward the shape on the ground. Harry tensed, his hand went to his wand inside his robe. He hadn’t forgotten the hoofmarks on Firenze’s chest, brought about by his own herd. The centaurs reached Firenze, knelt and produced a bag with food and a water gourd. Harry relaxed. The centaurs seemed to not only have taken sides in a wizard war for the first time in history, but also accepted back an outcast into their midst.

“… so they will have to try and recruit back all the muggle-born first-years who weren’t allowed to even start at Hogwarts; I guess the first year will be a rather full one when we get back to school.”

Harry, whose thoughts had been drifting away again, choked on his pumpkin juice.

“When we get back?” he coughed. “To school?!”

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“Well, what were _you_ planning? We have spent our seventh year hunting horcruxes. Apart from getting quite some expertise in protective spells, do you think this is an adequate preparation for our NEWTs?”

“NEWTs …” Harry croaked. He had not given a thought about NEWTs. There had been no “after” Voldemort, there had only been his task, and the things he had done to fulfill it. Even then, there had never been a plan, as Hermione knew very well.

Harry imagined heading off to his seventh school year in the Hogwarts train, his compartment full of pupils wanting a peek at the defeater of the Dark Lord; heading towards a school where there was no Dumbledore. Would he have replaced Hedwig by then, would there be another snowy owl staring at him out of the old cage?

The thought made him feel very strange. He couldn’t picture himself on that train. Whatever he had expected from his future, this wasn’t it. Hogwarts had been his home for many years, and the best home he had ever have, although never a peaceful one. The day he had chosen to step out of school, – he knew now – he had left for good. And there were only two things still waiting for him to do here.

Harry put his cup back on the table with a rigid motion and stood up. Hermione blinked at him quizzically.

“Sorry, Hermione. Thanks for the drink. There’s something I need to do. Alone.”

“But what – Where’re you going? Harry?”

Before he could change his mind, he got out of the Great Hall and searched for a silent corner, where he drew his Invisibility Cloak from beneath his robes, threw it over, and left the castle.

***

Dumbledore hadn’t changed. The body Harry faced was the same he remembered from a year ago. Whether some kind of enchantment was working or if the same laws that account for a wizard’s exceptional life-span also delayed the natural processes of decay, Harry did not know.

Harry knelt beside the face. Cautiously, he drew the elder wand, then hesitated, hand outstretched, wand lingering above the body, pointing somewhere behind it. Master of the Elderwand. He remembered the ease with which the Deathstick had repaired Harry's own broken counterpart.

Harry had found Dumbledore’s tomb cracked open, the white marble blazing in the sun; blocks of stone had been casting sharply contoured shadows onto the ground. Halfway hidden in the dark, halfway exposed by Voldemort’s desecration, the old headmaster had been laying at rest. The rage that had boiled up inside Harry at the sight had succumbed to a rush of painful sorrow since then. Yet again, the pointlessness of Voldemort’s crimes struck him.

It was with great care that Harry placed the Elderwand between the elongate fingers. He gave the half-moon spectacles on the crooked nose a last look, then replaced the wrappings over the pale, sunken face. He drew his wand. Repairing the tomb and closing the white marble seamlessly above the grave was as tricky as Harry had guessed. When he finally managed it to his satisfaction, he was sweating. The sun stood high above the trees surrounding the lake. Harry stowed his wand back into his pocket. It was only when he was on his way back towards the grounds that he became aware of one detail – that the floor inside the tomb had been clean and dry, untouched by wind and weather, although it had been opened weeks ago.

With a smile he was reminded of the only person who could have had figured it out, despite the Desillusionment Charm, what Voldemort had done that very night, where he had been heading to; and who had, not being able to undo the damage unless giving himself away, at least cast some minor protection around the place. Harry set his jaw. There was more work for him to see to in the aftermath.

***

The dark eyes had been staring up blindly to the ceiling – Harry had closed them. Blood had stained the rough wooden floor where Severus Snape had lain. Harry had lifted the body using a Hover charm, wrapped it into his cloak and was now returning to the dark underground passage that led to Hogwarts. Bending low, his ignited wand outstretched, he took care that the body did not touch the walls. Memories flooded his mind, and the whole scenery became surreal while he passed the endless tunnel in silence. The shadows intensified, crept up at him and a pressure began to build up in his head.

Harry wished Ron and Hermione were with him right now. He wondered why he had not asked Hermione for her help with this; he knew she would have come, as would have Ron if he wasn’t at the Burrow. Finally, Harry could make out a circle of golden light on the floor, indicating the entrance hole above.

Together with his darkly-clad burden, Harry emerged into bright sunshine, deeply inhaled the fresh air and welcomed the cool wind on his forehead. Unhindered by the frozen Whomping willow, he guided the body of Severus Snape to the castle.

It was halfway to the grounds that they were spotted first, and by nobody else than the new Headmistress and the new Minister of Magic, who had been pacing the lawn side by side, immersed in deep talk. They halted abruptly.

“Potter! What – who … Is that …” Minerva Mc Gonagall gasped and her hand shot to her mouth.

“It’s Professor Snape, Professor MacGonagall.” Harry’s voice came steady, was oddly calm. “Voldemort’s last victim. He deserves a proper funeral – much more, actually. He deserves … acknowledgement, for … “ Harry suddenly choked on the words, looked at the body, then found MacGonagall’s eyes again. “For what he has done. The role he played in bringing Voldemort down. For his bravery.”

Both Kingsley and MacGonagall had been in the Great Hall when Harry had had his final match with Voldemort, so they knew part of the story already from witnessing their dialogue. There would be time and time again for explaining the whole truth to those who wanted to listen to it, for revealing the secrets about Dumbledore’s murder.

Nonetheless, Harry was thankful the witch and wizard before him did not ask any questions right now. With a nod towards Kingsley, Professor MacGonagall said: “Minister, I think I shall take over from Mr. Potter at this point. The issue we agreed on, however…” She raised her chin and shot Harry a fleeting glance. “I strongly recommend not letting rumors start before the decree has passed the Wizengamot. To avoid potential disappointments on either side.” To his confusion, Harry thought he read a certain sadness in her eyes while she watched him, but he could be mistaken.

“Minerva,” Kingsley nodded respectfully.

Professor McGonagall raised her wand, and, pointing at Severus Snape’s body, voiced a Levitation Charm. Then she strode off. Harry was grateful to be relieved from his task. He had no idea where he would have left the body once he had returned to the castle. Did Snape have living relatives? Would he be buried in Spinner’s End, where he grew up together with Lily Evans, maybe underneath a certain tree behind a certain playground? Lost in thought, Harry kept staring at the two figures, who once had been his teachers, and who slowly grew smaller as they moved away.

When Kingsley spoke, Harry turned.

“Severus. I never expected treachery from his side. But neither would I have expected courageousness of this kind from him.” Kingsley folded his arms in front of his chest.

Eager to switch topics, Harry asked: “You’re Minister of Magic now? Really? I mean … congratulations!”

Kingsley grinned. “Eventually, there weren’t a lot of applicants for the post. The Ministry is a mess. Half the staff fled, afraid of repercussions for their involvement in the war. Lots of Half-bloods and Muggle-borns are still in hiding, some abroad.” The laughter in his voice faded.

“The Ministry also lost people in this war. God knows when we will have established some kind of routine again.” He sighed, and, eyeing Harry, he added: “We’re quite short of good people right now.”

“That decree Professor MacGonagall was talking about …”

“Hang on, young man,” Kingsley smiled. “You might have noticed I gave my word not to spoil the surprise. You and your classmates will find out soon enough. But I want to be honest with you, I do have an interest in your career plans. People have lost confidence in the Ministry, and rightfully so. We need restructuring and legal reforms. We have to keep an eye on the Death Eaters who managed to flee and on any threats that might emerge from the shadows of the Dark Lord. But the work we have to do will be only as good as the people who perform it. I need staff I can rely on, if I am to build up trust in the Wizarding World again. The sooner, the better.”

They had started walking towards the outline of the Forbidden Forest. Harry could make out the tree-tops swaying in the wind and the first bright-green leaves that fluttered wildly.

“May I know if you still intend to become an Auror?”

Harry couldn’t speak. This was getting too good too fast. “But – ,“ he burst out. He thought about Hermione and her mention of NEWTs. “I’m not qualified!”

Kingsley roared a deep laughter. “Don’t you think that taking down one of the most evil wizards in history makes you a bit – overqualified? Regarding the question of legitimacy, let’s see what my request to the Wizengamot will bring about. But rest assured that there will be a place in the Auror Office waiting for you, and I would be honored if we would join forces again.”

Kingsley stretched out a large hand and when Harry shook it, he felt how a broad smile started to stretch over his face, despite the turmoil in his stomach, despite the sadness that mixed with elation, despite the shadows that got only sharper and darker under a bright sun. His future had been a small black box of a door, he had been too frightened to touch its handle, to even look at it. And suddenly, that door was yanked open and he found that behind it, there were a myriad of possibilities he could try out – or decide not to. No prophecies, no predetermination, nobody working him towards a hidden goal. 

Long after Kingsley had departed, Harry still sat on a stone near the sunlit lake, savoring the strangely comforting feeling. He took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes. And for the first time in his life, he thought that taking a long holiday actually felt like a nice idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Huh, this had been gathering dust in my drawer for looooong, and I never thought I would share it. But then I saw baloobirds wonderful Comfortember collection, and it just ... fitted. Thank you for the opportunity!


End file.
